Running Out of You
by absolute reverence
Summary: Monica catches Chandler smoking. She takes a run to clear her head, and she unknowingly recaptures the fire back into her relationship. MC fluff.


**Title: Running Out On You  
****Author: Sam  
****Rating: PG-13 to be safe  
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Friends' or Jack's Mannequin.  
****Summary: Monica catches Chandler smoking. She takes a run to clear her head, and she unknowingly recaptures the fire back into her relationship. MC fluff.  
****Author's Notes: I just got the urge for this and I had to write it. 'Sweet Sixteen' is so hard to write. But I am working on it and I expect an update early next week. ( Also, the song is 'MFEO' by Jack's Mannequin. A personal favorite of mine. Story set along season 6ish…7ish….not sure. After Monica gets the Porsche. **

* * *

For Chandler Bing, the day had seemed to drag on forever. People constantly complaining about different things, reports having to be made, calls to be received, meetings to attend; it was almost too much to handle on a daily basis. Escape from the job seemed to be so far out of reach that he wasn't even sure why he was considering it. He shook his head and plastered a smile on his face as he opened the door to greet his wife, Monica. 

"Monica?" he called as soon as he entered. "Honey? Where are you?"

He was met with no response. "Monica?" he shouted again as he set his brief case next to the door. He walked across the living room and took a peek into their bed room. When he saw no one was there, he took a brief glance into Rachel's old room. She was never in there unless she was cleaning, and there was really nothing in the room to clean. _'Guess no one is here," _he thought to himself.

Sitting on the couch, he started to consider what to do with his spare time. Ross was teaching a class, Rachel was shopping in Long Island with Phoebe, Joey was napping and Monica was nowhere to be found. _'I need some more friends,' _he mused to himself. He smiled softly as he thought about the ludicrous idea of having better friends than the people he had associated with for the past half decade.

Just as he was about the drift down memory lane, his hand got caught on something stuck between the couch cushions. Almost startled, he snatched what he found to be a half pack of cigarettes. He stared at the pack of Marlboros for a second, his mind reeling with the possibilities.

It had been over two years since he had smoked his last full cigarette. He had quit sporadically over the past twenty years, but he had seriously quit smoking once he saw that him and Monica were getting serious. Smoking of any sort was something that Monica would not tolerate, and Chandler had graciously accepted. Sure, the thought of the nicotine crossed his mind, but the actual cigarettes never crossed his lips.

He opened the box, and seven little cancer sticks glared joyfully at him. He shook his head and looked towards the ceiling. Why was everything pointing against him? _'Monica's not here, the day was long, I am tired, I want this!' _And before he knew what was happening, the cigarette was lit and in his mouth.

He reveled in the smoke as it rolled down his throat and into his lungs. The taste was enough to make him want to squint and spit at the same time, but it was something that he didn't want to focus on. He instead chose to concentrate on the head rush that was inevitable after so many years of not smoking. His lead lulled back against the pillow in ecstasy as the door clicked, signaling it was about to open.

Panic ran through his mind and everything seemed to be in slow motion as Monica laid eyes on her husband. They both stood frozen, staring at each other, each not believing they were actually in the situation they found themselves in.

"_What_ is that?" Monica pointed to the intruding smoking paper. Chandler looked at the cigarette, tempted to toss it over his shoulder.

"Oh, this?" Now was not the time to make jokes. "I'm sorry."

"How _dare _you smoke that in our apartment? In our home?"

"Well, you see, I was just sitting here in the apartment when these just jumped out of the couch, and I thought for a second that I would just throw them out the window. But what if then a small child much like myself at that age found it and began their habit? Monica, I was actually doing society a favor…" he rambled sheepishly, trying his hardest to find any hint of love in his wife's eyes.

He found none.

Monica tossed her shopping bags to the floor, a few cans and fruits rolling out into the entryway. She stomped past them, past her husband, into the bedroom and slammed the door with such force that the apartment shook. Chandler stood in the kitchen, stunned at what had just taken place. Why had he even lit the cigarette in the first place? Was the two minute feeling of bliss worth the emotional lashing he had just received?

He glanced at his hand and saw that the intruding object was still lit. Chandler made a gagging sound as he threw it into the sink. He then saw the food items still laying in the doorway, and he walked over to put them away. Anything to make Monica's day a little easier.

As soon as he was done putting the last can into the cabinet, Monica's bedroom door opened. She walked out clad in a pair of sweat pants, sneakers, and a figure fitting t-shirt. She had her iPod strapped to her arm and apparently she was listening to it to tune Chandler out.

"Where are you going?" he asked sweetly. She did not even look in his direction. "Oookay…it's about to rain, Mon. Are you sure you want to go jogging?'

She let the door slam answer his question.

_You can breathe,  
__You can breathe now.  
__You can breathe,  
__But the air is running out.  
__You can breathe,  
__You can breathe now.  
__You can breathe,  
__But the air is running  
__Out on you._

Monica jogged through the park and tried to ignore the fact that her husband had the courage to smoke a cigarette in her apartment. Chandler knew that cigarettes were the only thing that she refused to tolerate. The smell of smoke disgusted her. The taste of kissing someone who smoked only made her feel like she was licking an ash tray.

She could feel the burning in her calves, and she knew she should probably quit soon. She had been running for God-only-knows how long. She glanced around to see herself in the middle of the running trail of the park. _'Up ahead is a parking lot. I'll stop there.' _

She continued jogging at a much slower pace to the parking lot ahead when she felt a huge raindrop on her forehead. _'I guess Chandler wasn't lying,' _she thought angrily as she reached the paved area.

The rain started to fall more torrentially until it was coming down in sheets. Being in New York in the middle of a rainstorm wasn't usually the best situation to be caught in, but today, the rain felt warmer than usual. It smelled better than it usually did. Monica closed her eyes as she quickly stuck her iPod down her shirt, the only place she could think where it wouldn't get wet. As soon as the electronic device was secure, she stretched her arms out and looked at the sky. She opened her mouth and let the precipitation drip down her throat. She remembered back when she was younger and Rachel would come over to play when it rained, and they would both stand out in the rain and let it dribble down their throats until they were both completely soaked from head to toe. This is what she needed. She needed the rain to wash her clean of everything.

* * *

Chandler shook his head as he turned on the windshield wipers. They picked up pace as the rain did until it was falling so much that he could barely see. _'Could it **be **a worse time to drive?'_

Usually driving would clear his mind, even if it was in Monica's car. He could just concentrate on the open road, that is, if he could ever get out of the bustling traffic of the city. Cars were honking and the moisture on the ground seemed to put everyone on the edge. He glanced out the window, and he knew that traffic would be horrendous. _'I should probably head back,' _he thought glumly. He turned into a parking area of a nearby park to turn around when something caught his eye.

Monica was standing with her arms outstretched, spinning around in slow, lazy circles. Her head was back, and Chandler couldn't help but wonder if her eyes were closed. He pulled up slowly next to her as not to startle her and rolled down the window as little as he could so the rain couldn't get in. "Monica?" he called to her. She looked at him, her clothes sticking to her in ways only the rain could do.

"Hey," she smiled widely.

_You waited for me in the rain  
__In the parking lot.  
__Cold hands, lips blue,  
__Clothes stuck to you._

"Monica! It's freezing! Get in the car or you're going to catch cold!" Monica ignored his warnings and continued to splash through puddles. "Come on, honey! Why didn't you call me? It's horrible out here!"

Monica stopped spinning and opened her eyes to look at Chandler. "Chandler, get over it. It's just rain. It's water. Ya know, sometimes you should really get out and just enjoy this. Fresh air would be good for you," she smirked, causing Chandler to gasp.

"Smart ass," he grumbled under his breath.

_You could have phoned me  
__For a ride.  
__It's a mess out there.  
__You said, "The rain's the rain.  
__Some air would be good for you."  
__Well, good for you._

"Monica, get in the car. Seriously, I'm not joking. It's getting cold, and you're going to get sick!" he cried desperately, driving slowly along beside Monica as she walked.

"Her Chandler, how does it feel to worry about someone you love doing something that could make them sick?"

Chandler's mouth dropped open in defeat. "Okay, okay, you win, Monica. You always win. I'm sorry that I smoked in our home. I violated your trust. I am sorry I am such a weak man! I love you with all of my heart, and I know you know that. And if that means never touching a cigarette again, then I'll do it. I will, and I know you probably don't believe it, but I mean it."

Monica stopped to look at Chandler. "I love you, too. But you don't know how much it hurts to see you with the thing hanging out of your mouth. To know that thing is slowly killing you? That huts me so much, Chandler."

If Chandler had ever felt guilt before in his life, it could never have prepared him for what he felt at that exact moment. "I had no idea it hurts you so much. Monica, I'm so sorry. But if you just got in the car, I swear I will find some way to make it up to you, I swear."

Monica looked at him for a moment before retreating carefully to the car. The rain was still pouring and running down her face. She opened the door gingerly before sliding in onto the seat covers. She shivered as soon as the air conditioning hit her skin. The contrast between the moisture and the air caused the windows to fog almost immediately. She gave a glance to her husband who watched her with huge eyes.

"I love you," he whispered, his tone laced with a certain lust. "And I brushed my teeth."

Monica sighed and closed her eyes as her mouth crashed into Chandler's. It was the most passionate kiss the two had shared in ages. Between both jobs and keeping up with the drama of their friends, it didn't leave much alone time for the two to share. His hands ran up and down her back, the coolness of the dripping water causing the nerves in his palms and fingertips to stand on end and dance with electricity. His hands drifted down to where her sweatpants were rolled once at the waist and hooked there. Her hands found their place running through his dry hair which was becoming more moist as each second past.

Making up, as Chandler put it, is always the best part of fighting.

_You get in my car where it's warm  
__You cannot forget  
__Skin new, hands true,  
__My hands all over you.  
__So what's another night  
__With the seats rolled back,  
__They can't see.  
__The rain's the rain.  
__Some air would be good for you._

Monica pulled away from Chandler, yet she held him at an arm's length. "I know I get mad at you for smoking, and I'm sorry. You just have to understand that I can't stand to see you kill yourself slowly like that, Chandler. I am so in love with you that I could never imagine my life without you ever again. You're a part of me now, and I want to keep you like that. I love you, Chandler Muriel Bing. More than anyone in the world."

Chandler couldn't tell if the drops on her face were water or tears, but then decided that they were probably a mixture of both. He leaned in and kissed each individual tear and savored their taste. He then pulled back to look at her.

"I love you too, Monica. More than I have ever loved anyone before. I had no idea that I was able to love someone like this until I met you. You're beautiful in every sense of the word, and I want to spend every day of the rest of my life trying to prove that to you. You deserve the best, and I will try forever to give that to you. And I really hope that you see that even though I smoke a cigarette every once in a while, that doesn't show that I love you any less. I need you to see that. I need you to see that it's harder than it seems to stop quitting, but for you, I am willing to do anything. I just need your help." Chandler wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He hated crying in front of her over trivial things.

The tears started falling freely from Monica's eyes. "Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too." He pulled her closer to him and nuzzled his face into his neck, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses wherever it went.

_You can breathe  
__You can breathe now  
__You can breathe  
__But the air is running out  
__Of you._

**End.**

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**A/N: Thanks. Read and review.**


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